Princess Genevieve Saves The World
by DitzyBrunette177
Summary: Princess of the World must seduce handsome son of a foe to avenge father's death R&R!TIRED OF REPOSTING RE-EDITED CHAPTERS,GOING TO PUT EVERYTHING IN 1 CHAPTER THAT I REPOST WHEN IVE WRITTEN MORE NEW POST 7/8!


Chapter 1

My seventeenth birthday dawned with an aura of expectation in the air. Donning my favorite gown, a long ruby number with matching heels, I felt like I owned the world. Of course, I didn't - daddy did.

King Benjamin Sawyer the Second was known far and wide for his incredible ability to keep the peace. Of course, it didn't hurt that he ruled all of the countries that used to fight against one another. And other than that, dear old dad didn't have much else on his resume. Well, anything else, really.

You see, dad didn't even conquer the world himself. While most people inherit money, with the occasional family heirloom thrown in, my dad inherited all of seven continents. The late King Benjamin Sawyer the First, also known as my grandpa, did all of the dirty work for him.

_Damn! I should have been downstairs twenty minutes ago!_ One glance at my diamond-encrusted alarm clock (a Christmas present from my boyfriend, the incredibly hot great-great-great-great grandson of the last Prince of Whales) and I was sent into panic mode. It's not incredibly Princess-like to swear, but that didn't do anything to lessen the string of curses exiting my mouth full-speed as I careened down the seven sets of stairs to the main hall, dodging numerous Royal Guards on the way. I didn't even have time to reply to the "Good morning, Your Highness!" "Happy birthday, Your Highness!," "Doing well, Your Highness?," and numerous other greetings thrown my way. I made a mental note to be extra-pleasant to the Royal Staff later on.

As the doorway to the great hall came into view, I felt my feet scoot out from under me. _Oops- looks like I'll be making a graceful entrance._ THUD! I heard hundreds of voices quiet themselves as I slid on my butt into the great hall, wincing as I plowed straight into the back of the seat where the Royal Cartographer was perched. I broke into a dignity-at-all-times expression, picking myself up off the floor and dusting off my skirts. "Good morning, Your Highness."

"Good morning, Lord Sinclair."

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Countless eyes bored into the back of my skull as I began the long walk to the other end of the table, where my seat was waiting at the right hand of my father, who was at the moment doing his best to hide a broad, un-King-like grin in his left hand, inadvertently leaving a smear of maple syrup behind. _Looks like someone started eating before he was supposed to._

"Dad, face!" I whispered as I took my seat.

"Good morning to you, too, Princess." He smiled as he dabbed at the smear on his cheek.

"Morning, dad. Sorry I'm late."

"No problem, sweetheart. What are a few extra minutes of waiting for my perfect little girl on her birthday? Speaking of…" He lifted his large silver goblet and the hall immediately quieted. "Lords and Ladies of the World, good morning to you all!"

"Good morning, Your Highness, King Benjamin Sawyer the Second, Supreme Ruler of the World and Decider of Justice!" Sheesh, when they say that, it sounds like they're addressing God himself.

"Thank you all for gathering here today in honor of my daughter, the lovely Princess Genevieve Lydian Sawyer the First!" A cheer rose up along the table. "Sir Herald McLeod, Handler of Royal Affairs Public, Private and Otherwise, shall speak on her behalf."

A portly, balding man with a dignified air rose from his chair halfway down the table. "I would like to propose a toast in honor of Our Highness, Princess Genevieve Lydian Sawyer the First. May she continue to blossom into the lovely young lady that she is already becoming, and may she one day, many years from now, wed a suitable Lord and claim the throne as her own, to rule justly and fairly in her father's footsteps for the rest of her days!"

"Amen!" I could feel myself already beginning to blush, and settled in for what I knew would be a solid hour of long-winded speeches in my honor, delivered by various Lords and Ladies undoubtedly close to the Crown and in various positions of power.

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Staring straight ahead, a certain pair of bright blue eyes caught mine. I grinned. _Thank you, God!_ Willy had arrived. Lord William St. Michael the Third, Descendent of the Last Prince of Whales and Official Royal Suitor. Yes, my boyfriend's title was Official Royal Suitor, a title given to him by my father for lack of other inspiration during his naming ceremony. A Lord by birthright, Willy had to have a title - it was just bad luck that stuck him with such a sucky one. Ironically, the title fit - Willy and I had been Officially Dating since my thirteenth birthday, when I reached Legal Dating Age. We'd been in all the same tutoring classes since we were five, liked each other since we were six, shared our first kiss together at age seven, and had dated unofficially until I was old enough to be courted. Peeking nonchalantly underneath the table, I found my puggle Daisy waiting at arms' length for the banquet to begin. Undoubtedly preparing for a Royal Begging Spree. Daisy may be slightly out of shape, but no one can beat that bitch at begging. "Psst, baby, over here!" I whispered. Daisy looked up at me as if to say, "MUST I get out of this incredibly comfortable position?" Regardless, she trotted over to where I sat, still concealed beneath the table. "Go see Willy!" I tucked a note into her diamond-studded collar with well-practiced fingers, watching her trot off in the other direction. "That's my girl!"

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"Willy! There you are!" I ran to greet my boyfriend, teetering in my brand new custom Givenchy heels.

"When my girl tells me to meet her in the courtyard, that's where I'll wait for her all day." He picked me up in his strong arms, twirling me around once before pulling me to him. "I missed you, baby." He kissed me soft, then hard, then soft again. I savored the moment, a birthday gift from God.

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"Farewell, Princess."

"Farewell, Lord William." I grinned, ruining the effect of my Proper goodbye. Willy managed to keep a straight face for the Royal Guards, taking my hand and kissing it gently before whispering in my ear, "So I'll be expecting you tonight, then?"

"Lord William," I whispered back, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

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The day's festivities were a whirlwind of excitement. Numerous parades and gift-giving ceremonies, a party on the royal yacht, and, of course, countless more speeches by various Nobility "in honor of this special day" were among the celebrations. But the gifts alone were worth the many hours of sitting through long-winded speeches about why I would make such a wonderful Queen (like anyone cared – it wasn't exactly a democracy!).

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Birthday Gifts Presented to Princess Genevieve Lydian Sawyer the First, This Seventh Day of April, In the Year Two Thousand, One Hundred and Sixty Two

1 (one) diamond tennis bracelet

1 (one) white stallion

3 (three) collars for the Royal Puggle, Daisy (diamond, ruby and aquamarine)

2 (two) diamond necklaces

1(one) pair diamond earrings

1,261 World Savings Bonds

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At precisely 11:56 pm, I slipped silently out of bed. Donning the gown I'd left out that afternoon, I slipped out the door and into the passageway beyond. "Hold it right there, Princess!" A tall, thin shape emerged from the darkness. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"  
"Tommy, please, this really isn't the time. Why don't you just give it a rest and come morning, you can say I stayed in bed all night long."

"Princess, you know I have a very important job to do - " I cut him off with a well-timed kiss on the cheek, then rushed off down the corridor, leaving one extremely dazed Guard behind.

Waiting for me at the corner was ever-faithful Daisy, lying down and chewing on a chicken wing. _Looks like someone was generous in the kitchen tonight._ "Psst! Girl - over here!" Gingerly, the little dog stood up, stretched, and meandered over to her mistress. Side by side, we continued on down the hall, pausing briefly at the stairway to glance backwards in case of pursuit before beginning the long descent downwards.

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Thump! Thump! Thump! I withdrew my hand from the large brass knocker as I spied a big blue eye peering through the peephole.

"Willy, it's me!"

"Jenny! Finally - come in!" The door opened, revealing Willy wearing blue silk boxers and a tight grey T-shirt. I let my eyes linger a moment on his ample six-pack, visible through the thin fabric, before stepping inside his spacious abode.

"Trouble getting past the Guards?"

"Just Tommy- you know, you really should relocate to inside the Castle."

"Gorgeous, I've said it before and I'll say it again," said Willy, casually leaning against a plush red couch. "Those Castle rooms just aren't large enough for a, say, NOBLE of my stature." I detected a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Of course you're right, Lord William," I replied playfully, stepping into his arms and placing a kiss on his soft, warm lips. We'd spend the next few hours enjoying each other's company, free from the irritating supervision of my ever-present guards. And maybe a little more kissing would be involved.

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There were five other Royal Pupils in my tutoring class. Julie Weston's great-great-grandmother was the last Queen of England. Robbie Sinclair's father was the Royal Cartographer. Lenny Michalka was my annoying little cousin, and of course you already know all about Willy St. Michael.

And then there was me. Princess Genevieve Lydian Sawyer the First. Jenny Sawyer, future Queen. Everyone was always so sickeningly proper when addressing me, and by no means did they jokingly tease me as they did the other students. Even Willy acted extra Proper towards me in class. The only person who treated me as if I was just like anyone else 24/7 was my best friend in the whole wide world, Julia Shwartzenberg.

Julia "Jools" Shwartzenberg was a Palace Commoner. In her case that meant that her mom worked in the palace as Royal Chef, and in exchange they were both put up inside the castle. Jools and I had been best friends since forever. Well, technically since the day her mom got the job eight years ago. Since Jools lives in the castle, she gets to take classes with the rest of the palace children. She's the fifth other student in my tutoring class. That means that we go to school together, and thank God we do, because otherwise Mr. Bisnick would bore me to death. And, you know, that probably wouldn't go over too well with the rest of the Kingdom.

"Jenny! Jenny, you in there?" Jools playfully knocked on my head with her fist.

"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, just daydreaming."

"No problemo. So… Did you do your research on dear old grandpa Benny?"

"Oh my God, I totally forgot! The oral report's today! I am soooo dead!"

She grinned. "Don't worry. I figured you and Willy were having a pretty busy birthday weekend, so…" In one swift motion she pulled out a thick stack of note cards and presented them to me.

"Oh my God, Jools- you are my savior! Thank you sooooo much!"

"Just a little birthday surprise for my favorite Princess!" I grinned, gave her a big thank-you hug, and immediately began practicing the oral presentation she'd prepared for me. It wasn't amazing, but it was definitely solid "B" material, much better than the "F" that I would have gotten. I sincerely appreciated it.

As I read through the third note card, a thunderous knock at the door startled me from my thoughts. Before Mr. Bisnick could remove his large bulk from his imposing desk at the front of the converted hall, which had once been used for dining before the newer wing of the palace was built, Tommy burst through the doorway. His sweat-beaded brow was tight with worry, his urgency such that he forgot to blush in recollection of my stunt the night before when he turned to me to deliver his message. The young guard's obvious terror frightened me. I had never before seen naïve, cool-as-a-cucumber Tommy this rattled. "Princess! I – he – come quickly," he blurted. "It's – it's the king. He's dead!"

You could have heard a pin drop in the large hall as my few classmates grew eerily silent, their usually lively conversation ceasing abruptly, as if it had hit an impenetrable wall. Tommy's words rung in my ears as I inhaled sharply. His unexpected outburst had hit me like a slap in the face. As the terrible news seeped into my brain, my temporary paralysis turned to disbelief, and then horror. It couldn't be true! I could feel my world crashing down around me. The castle walls were caving in. These powerful feelings couldn't be coming from inside me; it was as if the castle were under attack as I let out a piercing shriek and fled through the open door. "Your highness! Please – wait! I'm supposed to escort you!" Tommy yelled after me. His rumbling footsteps sounded from behind me, but grew farther and farther away as I picked up steam on my frantic dash to the throne room. Surely this was all some horrid joke, revenge for last night's distraction. I'd have that insufferable Tommy punished, see if I wouldn't!

But as the throne room came into sight and I took in the door, uncharacteristically thrown wide open, and the droplets of red liquid gleaming across the parquet floor, my heart sank. I steeled myself for the inevitable. As I ran across the threshold, my father's personal guard, Hakon, looked up from his position on the floor. He was cradling a large, nondescript object, and his face, surprised and regretful to see me, was streaked with the first tears I had ever seen the sturdy man shed. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to me as I drew near enough to recognize my father's lifeless form, slumped against his Guard's chest, a deep red circle still soaking through his robes just below his heart. The small crowd of Guards and officials surrounding Hakon and my father looked at me with solemn faces, and I could see the pity in each pair of eyes. I barely noticed the new, slight figure of a young man standing beside the elderly Royal Scribe. His face was withdrawn, eyes oddly glazed over. As realization finally hit me and tears of sorrow began to cascade down my cheeks, Sir McLeod stepped from the crowd of onlookers. "Your highness, God has not blessed me with the words to describe how incredibly sorry I am for this loss, which you and the entire Kingdom of the World must endure. The noble King Benjamin Sawyer the Second has fallen." He put a meaty hand on my shoulder in comfort, but withdrew it as I flinched away from his touch. The tears were flowing freely now, turning the fire in the torches on the walls to streaks of red and orange in my vision. Things were spinning again, faster this time, and I fell to my knees. A moan of internal agony escaped my lips as I crawled helplessly towards my father's lifeless form, still in Hakon's arms. Hakon looked up at me, and I saw my own pain reflected in his eyes. I couldn't look at his expression for more than a moment. Crying out, I got to my feet and ran dizzily for the door. No one tried to stop me as I fled, flying up staircase after staircase to my chambers, where I collapsed on my four-poster bed and cried until I was dry of tears. Then I fell into an uneasy sleep.

Hours later, I awoke to a firm knock on my door. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I sat up, the events from that morning hitting me again like a renegade carriage. "Come in," I called wearily as Sir Titus Sandhurst, head of the royal militia, stepped through my door. His face was somber, and he cleared his throat importantly. My mind was still a whirlwind of emotion, but, having exhausted my supply of tears, I shoved it all to the back of my brain. My father was dead, but I would have to deal with that later. As a Princess, I had been taught to put duty first, and the revered Sir Titus Sandhurst would only interrupt my mourning if what he had to say were of import enough to affect my life forever. I gave him my attention.

"Your Majesty," Sir Sandhurst began, the recent loss barely audible in his tone. "I regret that royal duty must come before mourning in the case of this terrible loss that you have suffered. So, too, must your coronation ceremony be postponed in this time of crisis. Take note, however, that you are, as of your father's death, Queen of the Kingdom of the World. As Queen, you must be informed of the cause of our former King's murder." The word 'murder', so cold and final, brought bile to my throat. "For months we have been tracking the activities of an enemy alliance, the Black Eagles. Their mission: claim rule of the Kingdom for a small group of ancient, noble families. We thought we had their actions pegged, but a sniper broke through our defenses. He made the fatal shot from atop the clock tower. We easily overcame him, but only once it was too late." I now recalled having glimpsed a second crumpled figure on the throne-room floor that morning, covered by a thin black cloak. I made an involuntary gargling sound, only now visualizing the blood that had trickled from beneath the makeshift shroud.

"Obviously, our tactics of surveillance from afar have not been successful. We need to infiltrate the highest ranks of the Black Eagles, to learn their next plan of action before it is too late. Too late once again, I mean."

"What can I do?" I asked the imposing figure before me, bravery failing to mask the quaver in my voice.

"That, my Queen, is the problem. You must undertake a task far more dangerous than we, as your Royal Advisers, feel comfortable allotting you. However, we have agreed that you are the best one to accomplish it. Your Highness, you must seduce Connor James Henry the Fourth, son of the leader of the powerful House of Henry. His father, Lord Simon Henry, heads the Black Eagles. It is a dangerous mission, and you mustn't allow anyone to learn of the fate of your father. For the time being, the citizens of the World will be led to believe that the King is alive and well – thus, you must present yourself as a Princess still. The palace gates will be locked to prevent the news of his death from trickling out. The Eagles will believe their sniper to have failed when he does not return, and, thinking your father to still be alive, will not risk his wrath by harming you. You must leave tonight. Head to the New Jersey, and seek out Moon San Jing." He handed me a slip of paper with an address written in precise, cramped print. "She is a palace agent, and will escort you to Henry Manor.

"Once you have seduced the boy, you must use him to discover the Eagles' next plan of action. Of course, whether or not you undertake this mission is entirely your choice, my Queen," Sandhurst concluded, watching me absorb this avalanche of information. "And let me stress yet again the danger of this mission, as well as the fact that no Royal Guards may protect you on your journey. The Black Eagles and the House of Henry must feel as unthreatened as possible, lest they never let down their guards."

I spoke over the immense lump that had gathered in my throat: "I'll do it." He nodded in understanding. Of course he'd already known my answer – I was Queen now, and this was my duty.

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As Sir Sanhurst left my room and I began stuffing everything within arms' length into three large bags, I realized the enormity of the task I had just undertaken. I'd only ever been outside the Palace gates once, on the Kingdom's 50th anniversary, when I rode into the Village on a Royal Chariot, waved to everyone in sight, then rode back to the Castle. I knew nothing about surviving in the real world! I'd always had my Guards to protect me, and I knew the danger I would be in was far greater than I could imagine.

Pausing a moment, I collapsed onto my bed, pondering my situation. I couldn't possibly say goodbye to Jools in person – the promise of such additional pain was too much to bear. I quickly penned a note to my dearest friend, then allowed the two servants standing stiffly by the door to gather up my bags.

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"Baby, are you okay? Where the heck are you going with those bags? Sweetie, talk to me. Jenny, honey!" Willy continued to pursue me as I ascended a long flight of stairs, the servants behind me struggling to carry my Louis Vuitton suitcases. Sir Sandhurst had made me swear not to tell a soul of my true mission, not even my darling William, and I had been silent since he'd joined our small party on the fourth floor landing, trying to figure out how to explain my departure.

"Willy, I have to go away for a long, long time," I finally blurted, fresh tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

"What? Hon, baby, what are you talking about?"

"Willy, I have to, um, comfort the people in this time of loss. I AM the Queen now, remember?" I figured reminding him of this fact couldn't do any harm. After today, he'd have no contact with anyone outside of the castle anyway.

"I know, baby, and I'm proud of you," he assured me. "Wait, why don't I come with you? I can't stand to be away from you for long, and I know you couldn't bear being away from me." He flashed me a winning grin, but I looked away. His expression turned serious as I replied.

"Look, this is something I have to do alone. It's – it's my royal duty, not yours. Anyways, I won't be home for months, maybe even years. You don't want to leave your family for that long. You – you _have_ a family that would miss you.

"And, um, one more thing," I mumbled, making a snap decision. "I – I don't think we should be together anymore. At least, not for the time being. You know I love you, and that's why I don't want to cause you any pain. It would be too hard for both of us, to be apart for so long. You should – you should go on with your life." I looked at my feet, trying to hide my sorrow.

"Wait - you're breaking up with me?"

"Yes, Willy, I am." I turned away, resisting the urge to throw myself into his strong, safe embrace. "Tell Jools where I've gone, but not until tomorrow. I don't want her coming after me." I left then, the servants dragging my bags the rest of the way down the stairs, and looked back only once to see that my beloved had already gone.

Thirty minutes later, my ride pulled up in front of the Castle Grounds. Since no Palace residents were allowed past the gates, my servants had called for a carriage from town (gasoline for cars had run out early in the century). Thus, I would travel in a little, worn-down buggy instead of a Royal Chariot, towed by two tall black horses who looked to have once been handsome beasts indeed, but were now well past their prime. A little gentleman sat in the driver's seat. He was short and slightly bowed over, with salt-and-pepper stubble along his chin. "Partridge Weatherby, at your service," he said, as he pulled the little vehicle to a stop. "Where may I take Your Highness on this beeaaaautiful afternoon?" I threw my bags into the buggy, climbing in after them, then double-checked the address on the now crumbled slip of paper Sandhurst had handed me. "Glen Ridge, New Jersey, if you may, Mr. Weatherby. And as quickly as possible, please." I offered up a handful of shining gold coins as encouragement.

"Right away, Princess." He flicked the whip, and I watched through the window as we rolled away from my Castle, my home. I didn't know how long it would be until I saw it again.

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Glen Ridge, New Jersey is a quiet little suburban town on the outskirts of New York City. As I walked along the near-silent streets, I consulted a state map I'd bought at the convenience store, comparing street signs to the path I'd marked on the map. Looking up, my eyes fell upon a large, white Victorian house with a neat stone walkway leading up to the stately wooden door. Proceeding up the path, I placed my finger on the doorbell, took a deep breath, and pushed.

"Hello?" A woman's voice called out. I could hear footsteps coming from the other side of the house. A young woman poked her head out the door. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her - she was breathtaking. Her long black hair was sleek and shiny, as if in a Pantene commercial. She was incredibly tall and lean, with porcelain skin and impossibly dark eyes. Her lips were unpainted but still ruby red, and they parted in an "O" of surprise as she recognized who was standing before her. "Princess Genevieve?" she asked, bewildered. Even in her surprise, the woman's voice was strong and assured.

"Yes," I replied. "Moon San Jing, I presume?" She nodded, and I continued. "Sir Sandhurst sent me to you. You see, I'm – I'm on a mission of the utmost importance. May I come inside? I have much to explain."

"Certainly, Your Highness."

"It's Your Majesty, actually, but we'll get to that in a minute."

Moon's brow furrowed, but she ushered me over the threshold without a word.

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Freshly showered and in a pale green dressing gown, I sat on a plush couch in Ms. Jing's spacious living room, holding a hot mochaccino in one hand and clutching a television remote in the other. I channel-surfed rapidly, a skill I'd learned from countless rainy days spent cooped up inside the palace. Moon perched next to me, dainty hands folded in her lap, absorbing everything I'd just told her as I changed channels at a distracting pace. I felt like I hadn't seen civilization in weeks, although in reality it had only been about 24 hours since I'd asked Mr. Weatherby to bring me here. Suddenly, I felt a hand on mine, pausing me in my channel-surfing reverie. "Pay attention, Genevieve," Moon chided gently.

Before I could respond, she was striding purposefully over to a bank of gleaming white Apple iMacs on the other side of the room. I wondered what one person could possibly need with so many computers as Moon sat down and began typing furiously. I walked over to the computer at which she sat, watching as she started a Google search for "Connor Henry".

Two seconds later, a thousand references popped up on the screen. Moon began clicking away, sorting through the various articles. Finally, a sly grin spread across her face. "Your Majesty – I mean, Your Highness," she corrected (I'd stressed the importance of keeping my new status a secret, as it would impart the news of the King's death), "would you like to see your new boyfriend?" Curiosity found me glancing at the screen. When I saw the picture on Google Images, my breath caught in my throat.

Connor James Henry the Fourth was breathtaking, that's why. He had light brown hair that flopped sexily over his forehead and rested just above his long, handsome lashes. His skin was clear and tanned, his arms rippling with understated muscles. His lips were generous and red, his eyes a deep and intense chocolate brown. As I looked at his picture, I could feel my heart beating in my chest. And then I mentally slapped myself. _I can't like this boy_, I reminded myself. _Seducing him is a mission, nothing more. Any real attraction towards him could ruin the whole operation._ Squinting, I tried to imagine the glowing face filled with blemishes, the nose crooked as if broken several times. I glanced at the picture again. _Still ridiculously handsome_, I thought to myself. _Shit. This is going to be harder than I thought._

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We were at the Glen Ridge train station. I stared at the huge air-powered hover-trains (air-powered vehicles were expensive, but when one needed to get somewhere fast, they were quicker and far more reliable, not to mention much more comfortable, than an old-fashioned carriage) as Moon bought us two tickets on the Luxury Express, a state-of-the-art hover-train that took weekly trips to and from London via the Stanley Bridge, built by Lord Stanley Cook in 2096 and connecting the continents of North America and Great Britain. The Luxury Express was aptly named – because it was the only train in the World traveling between two different Continents, as well as the fact that each passenger received their own hotel room-like quarters, each ticket cost about the same as ten Balenciaga hobo bags – in other words, more than Moon, even as a Palace Agent – and by extension, most of the rest of the population of Glen Ridge, New Jersey - could afford. Luckily, being Princess of the World and all, I had ample funds for multiple trips on the Luxury Express.

Fifteen minutes later, we were ushered onto the train. I wore my oversize Versace sunglasses, as Moon and I had both agreed that we didn't want to be hindered by gawking onlookers itching to get a look at their "Princess." The sunglasses completely hid my wide azure eyes. I'd pushed my shiny, caramel-highlighted brown hair in front of my ears, to hide the rest of my face.

Moon and I proceeded down the plush-carpeted train corridor to arrive at our separate quarters, the doors one on each side of the hallway. We agreed to meet in an hour in the dining hall for supper, then I swiped my key card through the sensor in my door and entered my new home for the next few days.

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Moon and I stood in front of a gigantic, modern brick mansion. Nearly half the size of the castle, it was surrounded by a tall, stately iron fence. The lawns were manicured and green, and topiaries lined the cobblestone path all the way up to the imposing double doors. Aside from my own home, it was the largest, and most breathtaking, building I had ever seen.

The rest of the ride had gone smoothly and without incident. We'd arrived at the London station early Wednesday morning, after two full days on the Luxury Express. After getting a room at a nearby hotel, we'd discovered that the Henrys were holding a gala at their mansion the next night, in honor of their eldest son Jeremy's eighteenth birthday. The event was open to the public, and Moon and I had decided it was the perfect time to meet Conner. Both of us had dressed for the occasion. Moon looked beautiful as always, in a simply cut green silk knee-length gown embroidered with silver celestial shapes. Her lips were ruby red, her eyes thinly lined with charcoal. Her cheeks were naturally flushed. She looked beautiful. I, on the other hand, felt like a prostitute.

I was wearing a slinky, shimmering mermaid-green Prada gown that came to mid-thigh, along with silver four-inch Jimmy Choo mules. My hair was pulled back in a loose horsetail, curled ringlets cascading down my bare back. My lips were slicked with shimmery gloss, my eyes were lined with black kohl, and my lashes were long and jet-black, with tiny crystals at the end of each one. Moon kept assuring me that I looked irresistible, and I knew that was the truth. Actually, it was the whole point, but I still felt indecent as the spring breeze whipped against my exposed thighs.

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The mansion was packed with hundreds of wealthy men and women dressed in designer gowns. It was nearly impossible to tell one tall, Botox-ed woman from the next, and likewise difficult to distinguish between the clean-shaven, tuxedo-clad men. Moon and I wove our way from one high-ceilinged room to the next, occasionally stopping to fake-flirt with a handsome young man or two, always keeping our eyes open for the lanky, tan, muscled body that was Connor Henry. _Son of the man responsible for my father's murder_, I reminded myself as I pictured his handsome face.

Moon spotted him first. He was near the refreshment table, his back turned to us, chatting to a pretty blonde girl in a Chanel cocktail dress. Moon gestured to me, her cool and collected expression a contrast to the opposing emotions warring inside me.  
Collecting myself, I began walking towards the refreshment table. Nervous sweat made my legs stick to the fabric of my dress, which hadn't been easy to walk in from the get-go due to its form-fitting nature. Moments later, I stood just feet away from Connor and his friend. I could pick out the individual threads in his custom-made, imported wool Versace suit. Steeling myself, I cleared my throat – daintily, I hoped – and watched as the handsome boy turned to meet my gaze.

Connor's eyes widened as he gave me a once-over. I barely had enough time to notice that he was even more handsome in person before I found myself shivering involuntarily in discomfort. His eager gaze had shifted to the low-cut neck of my dress. _At least it should be easy to rope him in_, I thought to myself. I put on my own winning smile, and got to the task at hand.

"Connor Henry, I presume?" I winked at the young man as the girl beside him shot me a glare that could cut glass.

"Your Highness," he crooned, bowing gallantly before me. "What an unexpected honor. I wasn't aware that you were in town - "

"Vivian Windsor, Your Highness. An honor," the girl cut him off breezily. "What does bring you to this part of the World? And so… interestingly dressed." She sneered at me every-so-subtly over her slightly crooked nose. _Possessive, are we?_

"I was actually hoping to have a word with the younger Lord Henry. Is there somewhere more… private where we could speak?" I addressed this question to Connor, who nodded eagerly, to Vivian's obvious dismay.

"Right this way, Princess. There's a vacant room just off this hall…" he trailed off as he led me down a wide corridor to a tall oak door, which he proceeded to open for me. Connor ushered me into what appeared to be an abandoned ballroom, with towering ceilings and a grand spiral staircase dusted with cobwebs in the center of the room. The door closed with a thud, and I turned towards him. He looked at me expectantly, his handsome eyes wide with anticipation, and I leaned forward, my lips brushing his ear.

"Lord Connor, how gallant you are," I whispered. "Surely you must be hospitable, too. Might there be a spare room I could use for the week? I arrived here just today and have some business in town, and it seems the local inns just aren't up to snuff. Besides, I would love to… catch up with your father regarding affairs here in London. The King - " I choked back an involuntary dry sob. "The King has heard so little from his officials here, and I would love to learn the elder Lord Henry's opinions on the country's affairs so that I might report back to my father."

Connor looked at me longingly as I drew away, then knelt down once again and lifted my hand to his lips. "We would be honored to have you here," he murmured. Standing up, he clapped his hands twice, loudly. The din echoed off the high ceiling, and a serving maid immediately rushed into the room. "Ethel," he commanded imperiously, "please show Princess Genevieve to our best sleeping quarters. Make sure everything is to her liking. Princess," he turned to me. "You must be exhausted from your trip. Please join us for dinner at eight, once you have had time to rest. The guests will be cleared out. I'm sure father will hold a grand ball in your honor - tomorrow night, most likely."

"Thank you, Lord Henry. I look forward to enjoying more of your hospitality." I curtsied lightly, then followed the maid out of the ballroom. We passed Moon in the hall, exiting the bathroom. I knew she'd followed Connor and me. I gave her a thumbs up, letting her know my mission was successful so far. She smiled back, then proceeded the other way down the hall. We'd meet in town the next day, when I was out on "Royal Business," to discuss the information I needed to wheedle out of the son of my new foe.

The maid ushered me into a large, lavishly decorated sleeping chamber, then left me to my own devices. Neglecting to change out of my party dress, I climbed under the plush bedspread on the four-poster in the center of the room. Admittedly, I was a bit tired due to the time difference, and drifted off into an easy sleep. I dreamed about Connor.

On the train, I'd had ample time to read about Lord Connor Henry on my trusty laptop. I'd discovered, to my relief, that he was seventeen years old, my own age. Apparently he was home-schooled, but not very rigorously, as several sources claimed he was often out-and-about by late morning on weekdays, when most children were still in school. There was nothing to suggest that he was an unpleasant person. The many descriptions of him at noble fiestas and the like described him as gallant and self-assured. _Not bad traits, per se_, I'd thought to myself.

I'd soon discovered that Connor was something of a player. He always had a different beautiful girl on his arm, but he'd never been in a serious relationship. _Well, it's about time the wild beast was tamed_. I'd figured if I couldn't hook him in, no one could, although this little tidbit did cause me enough anxiety to go over my plan of attack (outfit, words, demeanor) for our first meeting at least thirty times. Moon had become impatient very quickly.

I hadn't been able to find much information about Connor's relationship with his father. From what I could tell, they weren't seen out together very often. I hoped that meant he wasn't die-hard loyal to his family.

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_Ding-ding! Ding-ding!_ "Uuuuugh!" An hour later, I awoke with a groan to see a new maid standing at the foot of my bed, a large bell in one hand.

"Pardon me, Your Highness, but the young master asked me to fetch you for dinner. The guests have been cleared out," she added.

Rising without a word, I proceeded to a large vanity on the far wall of my guest chamber, adjusting my now wrinkled dress and fixing my hair until I was satisfied. "Thank you, um…"

"Betris."

"Thank you, Betris. You may show me to the dining hall now." With a curtsy and a hand motion signaling for me to follow, Betris proceeded out the door. She led me down the same hallway as before, taking a left so that instead of arriving back at the room where the party had taken place, I found myself looking down a long, oaken table, situated in the center of a narrow room with hundreds of antique masks, each featuring a unique haunting expression, lining the walls. A tall man headed the table.

Lord Simon Henry looked like a much older version of his son, with the same chiseled features and boyishly floppy hair, although the light brunette color had long since turned a debonair gray. His face was slightly careworn, but the most significant difference between Lord Henry and his son was his eyes. Like Connor's, they were a dark brown, but they were smaller and slightly beady, and the man's gaze was so intense, it was as if he was looking right through me. I turned away quickly, afraid he would see my true mission inside me and banish me from his home before I had had a chance to learn anything at all.

"Welcome, Your Highness, to our humble home," the elder Lord Henry intoned over the steaming platters piled on the table in front of him. "What a pleasant surprise to learn that you were in town. If only your _father_ had alerted me beforehand, we might have had a suitable welcome in place." I noticed the hint of loathing in his voice as he disrespected the Royal Family by neglecting to use one of the former King's official titles. The distaste with which he spoke of my father made me shiver with foreboding, although in truth I would not have noticed it had I not been aware of this man's plot against the Kingdom. "As it is," Lord Henry continued, "I am afraid your welcoming ball will have to be held the night after next, as I have a… very important engagement to attend to tomorrow evening. I hope you understand," he finished, shooting me a gracious smile, though I could still see the bitterness in his eyes.

"Do sit down," the delicate woman beside him cut in. I assumed this must be Lady Henry. "Your Highness must be so very hungry after such traveling." The Lady beckoned for me to take the seat beside her, which happened to be directly across from her son, then gestured invitingly to the array of food before us, an eager-to-please expression on her fox-like face.

Only now realizing how truly hungry I was, not having eaten since an early lunch that morning so as to have time to prepare for the Henrys' gala (which now seemed so very far away), I filled my plate and began to eat in silence. The Noble family followed my lead, so that the only sounds at the long table were the clinking of silverware and the gentle splash of wine glasses being refilled by hovering servants. Connor eventually broke the silence. I noted that he had not spoken since I'd entered the room, preferring to look on silently with sensuous lips curved in a peculiar half-smile. Now he cleared his throat, turning towards me. "Princess, I thought perhaps you would like to see the gardens tomorrow. I would be honored to give you a tour – we have the most splendid statue of the King I know you would just love to see." He spoke self-assuredly, as before, but with a slightly more reserved tone, as if holding back some expression. His father threw him a stern look that I couldn't interpret. Looking slightly abashed, Connor corrected, "Or perhaps you would enjoy the butterfly garden instead. Will you join me after breakfast?"

"I would be delighted to join you," I smiled seductively. "However, I'm afraid I have an engagement tomorrow morning. Could we postpone the tour 'till after lunch?"

"Of course, Your Highness. I – I look forward to it." I winked in response.

Tomorrow's plans settled and my plate clean, I set down my finely worked silverware and stifled a yawn. "I believe it is time to retire," said Lord Simon Henry, standing up. "The cooks will have breakfast ready at seven."

"I may have to leave before then," I told him, wanting to have enough time to talk with Moon before my plans that afternoon.

"No matter. A selection will be ready and waiting, I assure you. Good night, Princess."

"Good night, Lord Henry."

"Sleep well." The sentiment sounded to me like a warning. As in, sleep well because once we kill your father, you won't have many nights left. Ears ringing unpleasantly, I followed another maid down the winding hall to my chambers. _I must be careful not to reveal the truth of my father's fate._ I knew that I was only safe here so long as the Black Eagles thought the powerful King to be still breathing.

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I crept down the stone front steps at the crack of dawn, clutching the white chocolate scone I'd snagged from the dining-room table, which had been laid with an assortment of breakfast delicacies even earlier that morning. Hailing a richly decorated hansom cab, I climbed over the leather seat. "The Savoy, please," I directed the driver, depositing a handful of coins into his outstretched palm and lowering my head at the same time. If the cabbie recognized me, I was in for a time-consuming chat with a celebrity-struck commoner that I was not in the mood to have.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, nodding his balding head once as he whipped the twin horses into a lively trot.

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Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of the stately hotel. "Thank you," I said, opening the door for myself and stepping onto the pavement before the driver could set aside the reins. Moon stood waiting under the wide awning. She gestured urgently when she saw me. "Princess! We've much to cover, and too little time in which to do it. Come with me." She turned, and I followed her retreating figure inside, where she led me down a hallway and into a lavishly decorated restaurant. It was sparsely populated, and the maitre de greeted Moon with an iced-over smile, which quickly turned genuine when she spotted me in the rear.

"Your Highness! Welcome to the Savoy Grill. What a pleasure it is to have you here." We were promptly seated at a square bistro-style table draped with a white tablecloth, where my new best friend anxiously recited the over-fancified specials of the day and left us with a curtsy. Moon surreptitiously scanned the surrounding tables, all of which were vacant, before getting down to business.

"I've been thinking about what information you need to get out of Connor." She looked at me seriously.

"No hello, how are you, how's your new love interest?" I quipped. Moon cracked a smile.

"I'm sorry. How rude of me, Your Highness. I am very interested in your wellbeing, but as you seem quite alive and as you don't look ill, at least not to my unpracticed eye, I'm afraid we must skip the pleasantries for today."

"Of course. Please continue."

"As I was saying, you need to get Connor to tell you the Black Eagles' next step. Most likely they're going to make another attempt to kill your father, which buys us some time, as you're safe for the moment. Find out when, where, and how they plan to attack him. All you need to do is get the info and report back to me – the army will be the ones to physically stop them."

"It's just that – I'm not sure how he feels about me. Last night at the gala, he was practically drooling. You saw him – there was no doubt I could reel him in easy. But then at dinner, he was so quiet, so much more hesitant. I'm afraid he's not as interested as we hoped, Moon, and I don't see any other way to get the information - "

"Hush." She held up a delicate hand. "No boy in his right mind wouldn't be infatuated with you." I blushed. "You'll be fine – I'm sure he just got nervous. When do you see him again?"

"This afternoon. He wanted to show me the gardens. And then there's a ball tomorrow night, and I'm sure he'll have to escort me…"

"That's perfect! Warm him up this afternoon, then pop the question at the ball."

"What question?"

"Ask him about the Black Eagles."

"That's a conversation starter." I was being sarcastic.

"Better sooner rather than later."

"Your Highness, Miss San Jing – are you ready to order?" The waitress had appeared at my side, pen and paper at the ready in her eager hands. I glanced at the menu in front of me, making a quick decision. "I'll have the Ahi tuna, on the rare side, please."

"The same for me, thank you. And a Perrier for the table," Moon dismissed her. "You'll need a new gown, of course. We'll find it after lunch."

Energized at the prospect of shopping, I nodded vigorously.

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"How about this one?" The wisp of a saleswoman hung another dress in the changing room, which was curtained off from the rest of the couture-laden boutique with a length of heavy black velvet. I turned from examining the dress I was wearing, a gold sequined Chanel gown that was about a foot too long, to see what she was referring to. It was an olive green toga-style dress, and I noted with distaste that I might have mistaken it for an embellished potato sack in a different context. I was saved from responding by Moon, who chose that moment to burst in carrying a length of scarlet satin draped over her arm.

"Try this on!" She thrust the dress at me without explanation, and, grateful for the diversion, I shed the tacky Chanel in favor of the fluid Versace she had handed me. The gown was light and curve hugging, but only in all the right places. It fastened halter-style around my neck and was completely backless, save for a thin scarlet ribbon stretching across my lower back, the excess of which cascaded downward in an elegant wave. The bodice was corset-tight, tiny scrunched-fabric roses had been placed around the waist, and a row of saltwater pearls was painstakingly stitched along the neckline. It was simple and elegant, with just enough flawlessly handcrafted details to boost it from spectacular eveningwear to a gown fit for – who else? – a Princess. Its only flaw was the hemline, which was about an inch too long as was beginning to bunch on the floor, but that could be easily shortened.

"How much?" I asked the saleswoman, who was beaming shamelessly.

"Ten grand. But it's really quite a buy – that exquisite detail, and it's one of a kind! It looks like it was made for you, Your Highness."

For once, I knew she spoke in earnest. I looked incredible. "I'll take it."

As the tiny woman was ringing up my purchase and wrapping it in silver tissue paper, I glanced at my Coach watch for the first time since the cab that morning. My eyes widened in disbelief. "It can't be 1:30," I muttered, but, with a glance at the elegant timepiece about the register, my lateness was confirmed. "Shit! I'm sorry – I'm in a bit of a hurry." She handed me back my black Amex and the bag containing my purchase and, with a quick "Thank you, come again," I was running out the door. By the time I managed to hail a carriage, it was quarter to two. I hoped desperately that Connor ate a late lunch.

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It was 2:00 when I finally made it back to Henry Manor. I rushed around the side of the grand home to the gardens in back, heels click-clacking over the cobbled pathway. _I hope he hasn't been waiting long_, I thought, mentally kicking myself for jeopardizing this chance for a romantic encounter. I paused to catch my breath, a startlingly large monarch butterfly tickling my cheek as it rushed by. Observing the garden around me now, I noticed hundreds more butterflies of all sizes and colors, from small and velvety black to bright blue ones large as my fist. They swarmed around me, unabashedly alighting in my hair and tickling my skin. I let out an involuntary giggle of delight, which startled several of the creatures into flight. Following a yellow striped butterfly with my eyes, I watched it land on the side of an elegant marble fountain. A strong hand rested on the fountain next to it. Surprised, I moved my gaze to the face of the young man leaning against the fountain, which I saw was an intricately carved likeness of a merman with a striking, familiar face – the face of the eldest Lord Henry. The man before me was Connor, awaiting my arrival with an anxious look on his features, wearing a boyishly cute striped polo, the chocolate brown color of which seemed to make his eyes sparkle. His expression lit up when he saw me.

"Princess Genevieve!" Connor blurted, breaking into a smile. His sincerity caught me off guard for a moment. Seconds later, I found my tongue.

"Please pardon my lateness, I - " I could feel his gaze on me, making my skin tingle, far stronger than it had been the previous night. "I – got caught up with an old friend."

"I though you had Royal Business to attend to."

"I did. I mean, it was – my friend works for the King. She monitors the commoners, keeps track of those who step out of line in a major way – you know, law enforcement, that sort of thing, but on a larger scale," I lied. I didn't know why Connor was making me so nervous. I never got this way in front of boys, not even the highest-ranked nobles. It was as if the intensity of Connor's presence had increased ten-fold now that his parents weren't with us.

"It doesn't matter – you're here now." I detected a slight twinkle in his eye. I knew Connor had thought I was hot, but he'd been slightly reserved at dinner the previous night, in contrast with the eager attraction he'd shone when we'd introduced ourselves and when I'd asked permission to stay with his family. Why was he suddenly so interested again? He reached for my hand as I was mulling this over and I grasped his politely, allowing him to lead me through the lush, butterfly-infested greenery. I trailed after Connor, he amiably pointing out this rare flower and that unique breed of butterfly as we strode along the path. I tried my best to look fascinated, widening my eyes and batting my lashes as I murmured coy replies.

"Are there many gardens at the Palace, Your Highness?"

"Yes, dozens, but yours are so spectacular, Lord Connor, they may rival our finest." I worried I was laying it on too thick, but the younger Lord Henry was drinking it in. His eyes caught mine, and a peculiar shiver of anticipation traveled down my spine. I noticed for the first time a thin ring cutting through the chocolate puddle of each eye. It was the color of molten gold, and a ray of sunlight hit it as I watched. I could swear I saw a spark as I lost myself in his gaze.

And then his mouth was growing ever closer. Things were moving so fast, but I didn't have the willpower to stop myself before meeting his lips with my own. And then I saw fireworks.

Okay, not really. But it was a sensation I'd never experienced before that overtook my body in that moment. I felt blissfully light-headed, and I could swear the little dots of color seeping beneath my closed lids were exploding as I leaned into Connor's strong chest. My whole being tingled pleasantly.

He moaned, and we stumbled to a wooden bench on the side of the path. My chin was cupped in his hands, and I met his eyes again. "There was something about you last night," he gasped. "I couldn't get you out of my mind. I could swear there was some connection between us. But my parents were there at dinner, and – I can't explain why, but they wouldn't approve of my liking you. I wanted to talk to you so bad - " I kissed him again, feeling that impossible-to-ignore connection flowing between us.

A moment later, I realized what was wrong with this picture. I pulled away hurriedly, startling Connor, who looked at me with both adoration and confusion in his eyes. _This is the son of your enemy, Genevieve!_ I scolded myself. _You can't fall for Connor – you're going to have to betray him along with his family. Don't make it that much harder for yourself!_ "Maybe – maybe we shouldn't move so fast," I blurted, making up an excuse on the spot as I pulled myself farther away from the young Lord's torturously handsome face.

"But - " he began to protest, scooting across the bench and closing the distance between us that I had just forced myself to make.

"Shh…" I put a finger to his lips, smiling halfheartedly in what I hoped was a flirtatious manner. "Let's leave something to look forward to. You will be escorting me to the ball tomorrow night, won't you? We'll have plenty more time together then."

He looked ready to protest, but then he nodded, resigned. "As you wish, Princess. May I at least escort you inside?" He stood, adjusting the collar of his shirt, half of which had flipped up in our feverish excitement.

"Of course." I stood then, too, and we walked side-by-side back through the gardens and around the mansion to the front entrance. Connor held the door for me gallantly as he escorted me inside, and my heart fluttered involuntarily.

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I examined myself in the floor-length mirror of my guest bathroom with critical eyes. I turned this way and that, watching the flowing skirt of my gown swish with my movements. "It's perfect." The maid standing stiffly beside me let out the breath she'd been holding, releasing pin cushion and needle from her white-knuckled grip. I smiled gratefully, knowing my perfectly made-up face, with smoky eyes and nude glossy lips, along with my brand-new scarlet Versace gown, would make Connor practically trip over himself to cater to my every whim. At least, that was the intent, because tonight I would need the young Lord's utmost cooperation – and a good deal of luck – to get the information I'd been charged with seeking out.

I opened the guest chamber door and stepped out into the hall, treading carefully in my four-inch heels. The maid made to follow behind me, but I gestured for her to stay put. The echoes of chattering voices traveled towards me down the corridor, growing louder with each step I took. A figure came into view, leaning against the heavy ballroom doors, so splendidly turned out that I caught my breath. Connor wore a black tailored suit, the top button popped on his white silk dress shirt. His hair was perfectly tousled, and his chocolate eyes met mine hesitantly beneath long, almost feminine lashes. As I reached him, he held out his arm, and I took it, reveling in the tingling sensations where our skin touched. I gazed into his eyes a moment longer, and he released a melancholy sigh. "I don't know where we stand, Princess," he told me softly. My heart ached inexplicably for the pain I had caused him.

"I'll show you," I whispered, just as softly, leaning in so my lips were inches from his ear. Then I led him through the doors and into the magnificent ballroom, which was overflowing with elegantly dressed nobles and the sounds of music and laughter. A hush fell over the crowd as I entered, and I acknowledged my subjects with a generous nod. Then I tugged Connor onto the dance floor. The orchestra immediately struck up a waltz, and I encircled my arms around his waste, feeling his body perform the steps mechanically. I quickened my pace, the musicians following my lead, attempting to force Connor to submerge himself in the dance. Gradually I felt his grip relax, his movements become more fluid and nearly as graceful as my own. I shifted my body closer to his, until we were moving nearly as one. This time when I looked into Connor's eyes, they were bright with joy and contentment. I smiled at him, and he smiled back as our lips met in a kiss in the middle of the dance floor.

When he finally pulled away, I could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes burning into my back from the crowd around us. Connor was staring at me with stars in his eyes. I decided it was now or never. "Connor?"

"Yes, baby?"

"What do you know about the Black Eagles?"

To my alarm, his face darkened rapidly and his fists clenched, and for a moment I was afraid that the boy cradling me in his arms was going to hurt me. And then I saw the sadness in his eyes. "No," he murmured. "No, Genevieve, no… Come with me – I can explain!" Connor gripped my hand, and this time it was he leading me, both of us nearly running out of the ballroom. He took me back past the guest room, around a sharp bend in the hall, and up a curved staircase, practically shoving me into a large room just off the landing. He followed me inside, slamming the heavy door behind us. The high four-poster bed covered in a plush royal blue comforter, the grand oak desk in the corner with Steven King classics scattered over its surface, and the large flat-screen TV tuned to some sorts of sports channel on silent, all told me that these must be Connor's chambers. I turned to him, trying to mask the fear inside me. I may have been inadvertently falling for him, but Connor was still a Henry, and who knew what he might do to protect his family and their plot against the Palace. I tried not to think about it as he opened his mouth to speak.

"There was a plan," he told me, "to overthrow the King, and, " he gulped, "you as well. I wasn't against it at first – my father told me it would benefit our family, and I – I've never tried to defy him, anyhow. I didn't do anything to aid him, but I did know about the plot, and I didn't have any choice but to go along with it." He looked at me then, as if expecting me to begin screaming hysterically at any moment. I kept my composure, watching him pace the large room with a mix of sympathy and distress plain on my features.

"But then I met you," he continued, looking at me pleadingly, "and I was drawn to you instantly. That first night, when you were resting before dinner, I begged my father to reconsider. He wouldn't hear it. But I won't let him hurt you, I promise! Princess, I was going to tell you tonight, I swear. I'm falling for you…"

Tears pricked my eyes, but I held them back. "I believe you," I told him gently. "But I need all the information you can give me."

"They tried to kill your father!"

"They succeeded."

"Oh, Genevieve – I can't tell you how sorry I am. I'll do anything, anything at all. They won't get you," he said, his voice hard.

"I know you will, Connor." And I did. I realized in that moment that I really could trust him – he cared about me, I could tell from the look in his eyes. And I cared about him. I murmured a silent prayer of thanks for not being forced to work against the boy I'd fallen for. "And the Palace knows about the Black Eagles' intentions. I just need to discover their next plot, so we can stop them."

"Let me help you! We can work together – I can get you loads of information. I know where their next meeting is – we can listen in!" His expression was brightening in a fever of excitement.

"No – I don't want you to be in danger. What if they found you out? I don't blame you at all for the King's death, please know that – you don't have any obligations to me or to the Palace. This is my royal duty, not yours." It was like a deja vu – I remembered saying those same words to Willy barely a week ago. How quickly things had changed – most drastically, the object of my affections.

"I'm not doing it because I feel obligated." He closed the distance between us with one quick stride. "I'm doing it for you." And then he kissed me, and I allowed myself to fall into his arms.

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I lay on the couch in Connor's room, my head on his lap as he stroked my hair comfortingly. "They met yesterday morning, in the gardens, just before you got there," he murmured.

"Was that why you couldn't take me to see the statue of my father?" I asked him sleepily, eyes half-closed under his hand's gentle caress.

"There was that – they met near there – and the fact that his statue is, um, practically demolished." He frowned apologetically. "Sometimes my father takes his frustration out on the statues – specifically, that statue."

"Lovely." He grimaced, and I sat up, planting a gentle kiss in the center of his forehead. "How many Eagles are there?"

"The Black Eagles are comprised of three noble families – the Henrys, obviously, and the Bartletts and the Vandenhoffs as well." I gasped, recognizing the names from past palace gatherings. The families had seemed so innocent, ingratiating themselves with the King just like all the other nobles. Why would they, of all people, choose to betray him? What did the Henrys have against the royal family, anyway? Now that I thought about it, there had to be a reason, but I had no clue what it was.

"The heads of the three houses – along with their wives – meet tomorrow," Connor continued. "Father only told me the location so I'd stay away – they'll be on this floor, locked away in the spare dining hall."

"Where can we hide?"

"Well… I don't think you'll like it, but there's an air duct connecting this room to that one, and I thought – if we were careful - "

I cringed at the thought of such a dirty task before realizing the enormity of the opportunity. "Let's do it."

"It'll be messy."

"I'll have to get used to it. I have a feeling this whole operation is going to involve a lot of snooping."

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"_Ouch_! That was my _head_," I complained in a whisper, the ridiculously flimsy-feeling metal of the air conditioning duct reverberating against my skull. Connor reached back to pat my shoulder reassuringly.

"Hold on, Jenny. We're almost there." I'd demanded Connor call me by my nickname last night, after enduring three hours together in his room being addressed solely as "Princess" and "Your Majesty" (in lieu of Your Highness, as he now knew about my father's death). I could feel the dust gathering on every exposed inch of my body, not to mention permanently soiling my expensive jeans and plain white (bad call on my part!) tank top, but I held my tongue, trying to distract myself with thoughts of the swanky restaurant Connor was taking me to for lunch after the mission.

The murmur of voices other than our own became audible over the soft whoosh of the cool air around us. Looking over Connor's shoulder and seeing thin horizontal strips of light, I deducted that we had reached the grate. He was pressing his ear against the iron, and I slid into position next to him, taking just a moment to admire the way his hair fell sexily over his eyes. Then I turned my attention to the conversation taking place below us. From this vantage point, I could make out the elder Lord Henry pacing before a table of several other vaguely recognizable Lords and Ladies.

"As the idiot failed," he was saying, face twisted menacingly, "we're going to try a different tactic this time. They have too much security on the outside." I cringed, knowing the falseness of this statement. "I have," he continued, "a man already on the inside."

"How do we know they won't catch him?" a thin, balding man interceded.

"Because," the Lord snarled, "he's _competent_." He emphasized the word. "My man has already ingratiated himself with much of the court since he hired on, and he's working his way up until they trust him to serve the King himself. Then, _bam_, he'll shoot the weakling the first time they come face-to-face."

"What position, exactly, has your man hired on for?"

"Daniel is training to be the new Royal Scribe."

My breath hitched in my throat, and I felt Connor tense beside me. "You know something that makes this even worse than it sounds, don't you?" he whispered, eyes never straying from the scene below us.

"I think I saw the Scribe-In-Training just once before I left the Palace. He was, um – in the throne room when my father was murdered.

"He knows everything, then. Why hasn't he told my father?"

"I'm sure he will soon. The Palace is under lockdown – no residents can speak to anyone on the outside. He's obviously been unable to get around it thus far, but I doubt we have much time before he gets the news to the Eagles."

"Then what?"

"Then they kill me."

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"We've got to get you out of here!" We were back in Connor's room, and he was trying – and failing – to convince me to flee before I was in real danger. I was obstinately refusing. What if there was some invaluable piece of information I hadn't yet picked up? How were they planning to take over the Castle after I was dead, too? That was certainly important in case they succeeded in killing me, depressing as it was to think about, as the Palace still needed to be able to defend itself. But Connor was convinced that we had little time to waste. He was right.

At that moment, a shriek pierced the air. It sounded as if someone was mortally wounded. We both made to head into the hall, Connor pushing past me in a weak attempt to keep me away from the Black Eagles several rooms over. And then the shriek turned into a frightening, gleeful laugh – well, more a cackle, really, although until that moment I hadn't known noises like that existed in real life. "My mum," Connor whispered, recognizing the frightful sound. We crept down the hall together, me grasping his hand in unspoken anxiousness.

"What!?" we heard Lord Henry snap, obviously annoyed. The meeting was over, but the nobles were having tea, the men smoking their imported cigars with an air of superiority permeating the stink of tobacco in the room. We crouched behind the door, which was pushed wide open, as Lady Henry scurried back inside.

"He's dead," she announced, semi-hysterically. "The sniper succeeded after all. He hasn't come back because they shot him after the fact, but Daniel just managed to get past the guards to call me from town."  
The Lord broke into a wide, menacing grin. "Then the Princess – she's all ours." I shuddered, and Connor held me tightly. "Lady Henry, fetch her and bring her here," he ordered his wife. "We can get it over with." I saw him finger the pistol hanging plainly from his wide leather belt. I let out a nervous hiccup.

_Shit!_ I covered my mouth in horror, and Connor took on an unreadable expression as my slip-up reverberated throughout the echo-happy corridor. I heard startled gasps from the gathered Eagles, then angry footsteps as Lord Simon Henry neared our hiding spot, brandishing his gun. Connor squeezed my arm once, then stepped out from behind the door and into plain sight. "Run!" he mouthed over his shoulder, and then turned towards his father, whose face had twisted into a red, angry mask.

Wary and reluctant to leave Connor to his father's wrath, I slunk out from behind the door. I kept my head down, hoping to creep past the room unnoticed. I heard shocked gasps from the Eagles, who had gathered in the doorway, and, realizing my mistake, began to run down the tiled hallway. The sound of my footsteps reverberated in my ears as angry shouts grew louder behind me. I turned the corner, gasping for breath, knowing I couldn't stop lest the angry Lord get a clear, deadly shot. I could hear him screaming in my wake, Connor trying – with limited success – to distract him from the problem at hand. More footsteps rang through the corridor, and I pushed my aching legs to run faster. A knife was tearing at my lungs from inside my chest, but I continued on as I raced down the long staircase and out the front door. Not stopping once I had reached relative freedom, I raced along the street to the nearest square, citizens on leisurely mid-morning walks gawking open-mouthed as I flew past. My lungs felt as if they had exploded by the time I reached the square, wheezing unattractively. I weakly hailed the nearest cab, collapsing across the smooth leather seats, and directed the cabbie to keep the horses moving. As I'd fled the mansion, my flight instincts had taken over, my mind yielding to my body's need to go, go, go. Now, I needed to think, going over everything that had just taken place.

Obviously, I was in mortal danger. No more secrets – the Eagles knew that the King was dead, and I could no longer walk safely among them. I was the only obstacle between them and control of the World. That, and destroying the Palace, but with the Royal Family out of the picture, that wouldn't be too hard to do.

My thoughts turned to Connor. I prayed that he was safe, relying on what fatherly love Simon Henry might possibly have to keep the evil Lord from harming his only son. I hoped that blood would be enough to protect him. I realized, however, with a sordid feeling in the pit of my stomach, that there was nothing I could do but wait for Connor to come to me. So I decided to figure some things out. We were about to pass an internet café.

"Stop, please! I'll get out here." I handed the driver three gold coins, which he accepted eagerly, then hurried out of the cab and into the thin, anorexic-looking building that was the café. It was squashed between a diner and a laundrymat and was situated in what appeared to have once been an alley. I noted the battered sign above the door as I entered. "The Royal Café," it read in swirling print. _It certainly is royal today_, I thought dryly, too worn out to laugh at my own joke.

I paid the elderly woman at the register for an hour of Internet access, then logged on to an equally old desktop PC and clicked my way to the Google home page. I had a hunch, and I wanted to see if I was right. "Kings of countries before Unification," I typed, then crossed my fingers and hit "enter." The first link took me to a list of countries and the royal families that ruled them before Grandpa Benny took over. I scanned down the list of Noble names until I came to Bartlett. Heart pattering against my ribs, I continued down the list until I found Henry a little ways down, then Vandenhoff at the very bottom.


End file.
